The Girl with the Green Motorcycle.

I received the most interesting bit of spam the other day:

Desert nor note begin walk win refuse. Carry mine valley sign complete guide way forest love chick. Record however always change smell away dictionary especially. Space depend wear other street guess.

Fasten earth much particular sent reach very. Expect circle worry clock block flat power next discuss. Affect listened wire learned i molecule period told band tail.

Bottom carry colony were except by division. Major cow farm cry contribute office accept heard middle. Event go during chance. What face subtract give that try radio.

Party might treat thing. Got cotton open thus root left dad noun. And shoe able followed wonder late road.

For spring paint mine vowel iron discover west short on. Guess else forgot pass office phrase study. Symbol deep listen and. Old inform bone also separate indicate. Morning met lead saw write product thought. String village idea sea chance center.

It’s almost like haiku.  I especially like the bit about “forest love chick” and “major cow farm cry”.  Sounds like a PETA thing.

Of course, it was followed by an ad for natural male enhancement and higher semen volume.

I was so elated this past Tuesday to see Obama elected president, but the numbers in my county just further drive the point home - I don’t belong here.  People just walk up to me at the gym and profess their fear of our new president, assuming that I’ll agree because 1) I’m white, and 2) I’m a woman.  People have this hatred and mistrust of young, college educated folks.  I’ve begun wearing Obama, Grassbaugh, and Cordray shirts to the gym just to make it clear that I AM NOT ONE OF THESE SCARED WHITE WOMEN.  As I said, I don’t belong here.  No matter how much I want to usher in a generation of change for Knox County and wait for the old conservative guard to retire, I’m utterly miserable here when I have to do it alone.

Really, it takes every ounce of strength that I have to get out of bed every day and deal with the world.  If it wasn’t for the dogs hovering over me, staring, and attempting to communicate with me telepathically, I probably wouldn’t even get out of bed on the weekends.  I rarely cook full dinners any more, and when I do, I end up throwing most of it away.  My dinners frequently consist of a glass of wine, a few pieces of chocolate, and a cup of tea.

At work, I’m afraid of committing malpractice - I’m a huge liability for the firm right now, because I can’t concentrate and stay on task.  I’m frequently on the verge of tears.  I like my clients and I love what I do, but at the end of the day, legal work is the last thing on my mind.  My days are a blur.  I can’t remember basic names and concepts.  I feel like I’m shortchanging everyone, and I feel terribly guilty for being such a slacker.

I never thought I would feel hampered by my education, but I do.  I would start leaving my JD off of my resume, but then that would leave gaps in my employment history.  It’s a dice roll.  Reading the horrible stories of NYC attorneys relegated to legal sweatshops for $12/hr makes it worse.

Some NY friends (and most employment articles) have suggested that I should move first, then search for a job, because employers are more likely to hire someone local than an out-of-stater.  I’m tempted.  Still, it would mean that we would have to put all of our crap in storage and find renters for our house here, which I cannot do all by myself.  As long as we can find someone to cover the costs of the mortgage, insurance, and taxes, we’re set, but it will take a while.  Maybe I have family members or friends out there willing to rent.  I have a friend with twin boys who expressed interest.  The whole idea of it overwhelms me.  I might start giving loads of stuff away here soon - that’s all it is, it’s just stuff.  And we have tons of it.  Why in the hell do we need two dozen wineglasses?  Dresses I don’t wear anymore?  Two desks? I’d rather give up my worldly possessions just to be happy again than be stuck in this soul-crushing hamlet.

Expect a mega clutter giveaway soon.  I might even sell my motorcycle, if I can’t find a place to store it.

Now, back to watching the Jonestown documentary that I’ve been glued to.  Thanks, MSNBC, for ruining my night.

Why does Sarah Palin pay more attention to Elizabeth Hasselbeck than to Elizabeth Dole?

She totally failed to mention Republican woman Elizabeth Dole during the convention, yet she repeated Ferraro and Clinton’s names ad naseaum.  Now she’s taking lessons in accessorizing from that uppity blonde chick on The View.

No wonder Ms. Dole’s campaign ads assume that Obama will win. She got snubbed.  Let’s not forget that she ran for president once, too.

I was watching TV before the debate the other day, and I saw a “Vote Yes on Issue 6″ commercial, advocating a constitutional amendment to allow casino gambling in Ohio. A large, blonde guy appeared on the teevee - I told the dogs, “Hey, I know that guy!  I just saw him at the gym this morning!”  I’m sure many of you have seen this commercial - he’s been pegged as the “angry gambler”, with his tagline, “Gimme a break!”

Turns out it’s Matt Starr, a long-time Vernonite and former co-worker of my mother’s.  He’s also a fellow gym-rat at Body Basics.  This guy is a beast - he’s well over 6 feet tall.  He’s pretty unmistakable.

Anyways, I wish I had a link to a video of the commercial right now so that I could post it.  It’s pretty good - it’s his first foray into TV acting, I believe.  The problem is, people keep approaching him on the street, assuming that he truly IS the “angry gambler”.  He’s an actor, folks.  He had to audition for the role.  Give him a break.

I drove to a CLE in Muskingum County today, and can I just say, it’s LOTS of fun to read political signs in other parts of the state!  For example…

Judge for Judge!

And then there’s Jimmy Stewart, for the Ohio Senate:

No, not that one, this one!

It’s just like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, except he goes to Columbus.

Unrelated to politics, I found Vroom Road - I must go back sometime.

Both Andy and I have been glued to the financial crisis for the past few months, and we’ve found two radio shows particularly helpful in understanding the meltdown.  We are also huge fans of This American Life.  Lo and behold, T.A.L did not one, but TWO shows on the financial crisis.  Economic devastation and the dulcet tones of Ira Glass’ voice - two great tastes that go great together.

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So, if you haven’t already figured this out, this is my blog for venting whatever bile may be on my mind at any given moment.  And the bile that I must spew tonight is:

Thom Collier is a Douchebag.

Yep.

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I’ve been glued to the internets lately because of politics and the financial meltdown.  I can’t help it.  It’s a trainwreck - I can’t look away.

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Last weekend came and went too quickly, but we’re upon another weekend, so, hooray!  Andy’s coming home again this weekend, and I’ll be in NYC the following two weekends.  Then, it’s seven weeks of Dallas (Dull-ass) for Andy.

After Andy left for NYC last Sunday, I decided to be productive and use the new hedge trimmer that he bought for me as commercial solace.  I made major progress on most of the privet hedge and the backyard.  However, I started breaking out in weird hives last night…I don’t know if it’s poison ivy, or some weird latex allergy from my checkup the other day.  Does poison ivy appear a full three days after exposure?  If so, how in the hell did it end up on the back of my neck?

Tonight I watched the new TNT drama, “Raising the Bar“.  It’s about a group of public defenders, district attorneys, clerks, and judges in NYC.  If there’s a new drama about your job, you have to watch it, right?  Just to point out all of the glaring inconsistencies to the ever-attentive dogs, right?

They go a bit overboard with the hardass judge character.  It doesn’t help that she’s also the mom from Malcolm in the Middle.  The floppy “loose cannon” public defender makes out with the cute blonde DA who has a sense of justice.  That was predictable.  The well groomed, articulate “innocent client” was predictable too.  And Mark Paul Goslaar has a huge frikkin’ forehead.

Oh well, off to bed with me.  I have felony court duty tomorrow, and unfortunately, the cast ain’t that pretty.